


it's just us

by outranks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Mild Fluff, Oral Sex, Post-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27136324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/pseuds/outranks
Summary: Dorothea stands there, frozen, as her mind reels away from the crisis she’s having to Ferdinand’s appearance at her dressing room. Holding a rather large bouquet of red roses.(Dorothea gets her pussy ate #Blessed)
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Dorothea Arnault
Kudos: 66





	it's just us

**Author's Note:**

> all I write these days is smut (ง ื▿ ื)ว

It’s seven paces from one end of Dorothea’s dressing room to the other. She knows this because she’s been walking it back and forth, non stop, since the moment she finished her hair and makeup. Tonight is the very first comeback performance of the Mittelfrank Opera Company since the war ended and, for the first time in years, she’s _nervous._

The performance itself isn’t even that grande—it’s simply a tribute to the end of the war and those who fell in the campaign for true peace. It shouldn’t mean anything more than any other performance, and yet her hands won’t stop shaking; everyone she knows and loves will be in the audience. Which, alone, shouldn’t mean anything, but even though they're still her friends, many of them are now so much more than what they were back at the academy... 

Royalty, ministers, and diplomats. Titles that don’t mean anything to her except for when they all seem so daunting..

Especially Edie, who is now Her Imperial Majesty, Edelgard. 

Dorothea thinks she might throw up. 

“Come on, you can do this,” she says to herself, spinning on her heel to head back toward the other side of the room. “This isn’t anything _new._ Men used to come from all over Fódlan to see you perform, and that didn’t phase you at all. This is exactly like that but… worse.” She sighs, and turns to make another lap around the room. 

Even Bernadetta is coming out of hiding to see her. She’d sounded so excited in her letter that Dorothea had been overjoyed at the chance to see her friend again. At first. Before the overwhelming pressure set in. 

She has to be _amazing_. Her performance can’t be anything other than extraordinary for all of the effort her friends are making to be there. 

Even Linhardt promised to postpone his evening nap to be in the audience.

Dorothea groans and considers, just for a moment, running away. “You’ve definitely got this…” she mutters to herself, her shoulders slumping as she leans back against the door. 

Someone clears their throat out in the hallway, just pointed enough to make it clear that they could hear her. “Dorothea?” Ferdinand calls, his voice just a touch too loud. “Are you alright in there?”

She rushes to push herself from the door and drag him inside. Dorothea is not prepared to explain why Adrestia’s prime minister is visiting her backstage, especially with— “flowers?” she asks, eyes growing wide. “Are those for me?”

“Ah, yes, they are,” he says, handing them over. 

Dorothea stands there, frozen, as her mind reels away from the crisis she’s having to Ferdinand’s appearance at her dressing room. Holding a rather large bouquet of red roses. 

“Oh,” she says. “Thank you.”

“I was going to save them for after the performance, but I could not wait to see you.”

They’re lovely and thoughtful, and of course Ferdinand would have a gift prepared for her. “Thank you, Ferdie.” She takes the roses from him and brings them to her nose, inhaling their scent. “I love them.” Gently, she sets the bouquet down on the vanity, and briefly considers where they’ll look best when she brings them home. 

“Well, I imagine you are quite busy—”

“No, I was just… um…”

“Practicing?”

“No, not that.” Dorothea sighs, resisting the urge to run her fingers through her hair as she turns back toward Ferdinand. “I guess you could say I’m a little nervous.” 

Once she says it aloud it seems to grow, bringing back everything she’s been worrying about, but somehow even worse now that someone else knows. She’s supposed to be a professional, and yet she’s behaving like a fresh-to-the-stage ingenue. “Oh, nevermind, it’s not really important.”

Ferdinand reaches out to her. “But it is important to you, and so it is important to me too.”

“Ferdie...”

“Please, talk to me.”

“Oh, alright, fine,” she says, folding her arms over her stomach and looking slightly to the left of Ferdinand, unable to meet his eyes. “It’s just that it’s such an important performance, and all of our friends are here to see me. Even Petra made the trip from Brigid for this and, well, some important diplomatic reasons, but that’s not the _point_.” 

She takes a deep breath, glancing at Ferdinand’s face for a moment and seeing only _understanding_ before she has to look away again. He makes it so easy to feel safe, but she’s still not used to having that with anyone. “Back in school, and even during the war, I would always talk about my singing and my next time on the stage, but… what if I just disappoint everyone? What if it’s been too long and I’m not as good as I was? What if they hate it?”

“Dorothea, I think you are magnificent,” Ferdinand says, lips pulling up at the corners in an earnest smile. “You have always been one of the most amazing people that I have known.”

“ _Ferdie._ ”

“No one will hate hearing you sing. Your voice is… the loveliest thing I have ever heard. But I do know what it is to get caught in your own thoughts, so perhaps there is a way to take your mind off these things,” he says. 

“I—“ Dorothea sighs. “I don’t know what you _can_ do.”

Ferdinand pauses in thought, his eyebrows creasing together. “Ah, I have an idea,” he says, “and if it does not work, then I will cause a great distraction and the show will have no choice but to postpone.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I would do _anything_ for you.”

A blush creeps up her face, and a familiar feeling overtakes her. ”It’s always so easy for you to say things like that,” she murmurs.

“Only when I mean it.” Ferdinand steps closer, placing one large palm to the side of her face. “Now, let me help you,” he says, and in one swift motion he picks her up, one arm under her knees and the other supporting her back, and deposits her on the small stool by the vanity. 

“What—“

“If you will allow me—“ Slowly, he kneels on the floor between her legs and pushes her skirts up.

“ _Oh_ ,” she says, eyes growing wide before a laugh spills out from her chest. “You should have said so, Ferdie.” She wriggles to help him remove her underclothes, and is left exposed from the waist down for his eyes only. 

Ferdinand grins at her, far too earnest for the position he’s in, and takes hold of her thighs to press them open. He places a kiss to her knee, then leaves a trail of them up along her skin until his lips brush her cunt. The first swipe of his tongue over her clit has her digging her nails into the fabric of her dress and leaning back against the hard edge of the vanity table. She bites at her lip, feeling herself grow wet under his attention.

He mouths at her clit, sucking on it to pull a moan from her throat. His hands grip her tight enough that she’ll still have his marks tomorrow, and part of Dorothea thinks she should hate that; allowing some noble to put such a claim on her. 

But the truth is she loves it. She’ll spend the days until they fade pressing against the bruises he leaves and letting the memory spark new heat inside of her. 

“Ferdie,” she groans, guttural and deep as he slides two fingers into her easy as that. Her toes curl in response at the way he brushes against her inner walls, seeking out that perfect spot of pleasure. 

He licks around her entrance that’s been stretched around his fingers, before his tongue slips into her too. She gushes, growing wetter, and it would be embarrassing if not for the quiet moans from Ferdinand as he laps up her juices. He presses forward, more eager than before, and licks back up to her clit. He seals his lips around it and sucks on her like the finest treat in the Empire.

Dorothea shakes with need and grabs fistfuls of his hair, digging the heel of her foot into his shoulder. “Oh, Ferdie, _like that_ —” She doesn’t have enough leverage to _do anything_ except take what he gives her, and it’s maddening. “Come _on._ ”

Her eyes close and her mouth falls open. She lifts one trembling hand from his hair and pulls at the front of her dress until one of her breasts is exposed to the open air. Her nipples are already hard, aching to be played with, and for a moment she imagines what it would be like to go up on stage looking exactly like this: debauched and used.

Shame never quite hits—as soon as the thought arrives, it dissipates with that spot inside of her being teased. Ferdinand hums, fucking her on his fingers in a broken rhythm. She’s soaked with his spit and her own juices and every push inside of her echoes obscenely in the room. He presses up, holding there for a moment, before he pulls his mouth away to kiss at her hip, breathing hot puffs of air against her heated skin. 

“Don’t stop,” she demands, though she can’t pretend that her voice isn’t edging into a whine. 

She feels Ferdinand’s grin before he pulls his fingers out completely and runs them around her entrance, gathering up her slick and pushing it back inside and follows with his tongue. He fucks her on it, licking deep as his hand moves to her clit—rubbing circles with his thumb. He alternates between feather-light touches and hard pulls that make her cry out and try to grind down on his face. 

A sob rips from her throat as her eyes lose focus on the room around her. The muscles of her thighs twitch and she trembles with the building pleasure. She makes little sounds of punched out sighs and gasps of “ _Ah_ , _ah_ — _“_ before her orgasm crashes through her. 

Every muscle goes tense when she cums. Her hips jerk, her belly pulls tight, and for a moment her mind goes blank. Ferdinand’s fingers rub at her clit, drawing out every sensation until it’s almost too much, and she’s left wrung out and raw. But he continues to play with her, gathering her juices on his tongue as aftershocks spark along her nerves. 

“Ferdie,” she says, breathless, and pushes him back with the little strength she has left. Her heart is still beating too fast.. 

Ferdinand sits back on his heels and wipes at his mouth and sucks her release from his hand in a display not fit for the nobility, but in a way that makes her smile. “Are you feeling better now?” he asks.

A laugh bubbles up inside of her and Dorothea can’t believe how absolutely _fond_ she is of this man. “You know, I think I am.”

“I am glad,” he says with a smile, himself up to stand and bringing his clothed erection into view.

“Do you want me to do something about that?”

“Ah—” A blush creeps onto his cheeks, which should be almost impossible after what he’s just done with her, “I will be alright.”

Dorothea trails the tips of her fingers lightly over his cock. “Are you sure?” She wants to feel the weight of him filling her, even now when she knows they’re short on time.

“Tonight is about you; and I am sure we do not have much time for anything else.” He’s right, though she wouldn’t mind _trying._ He reaches over and gently caresses her exposed breast before pulling the top of her dress back up and adjusting her skirts. “Perhaps later, when I take you home…”

Dorothea stretches and casts a glance around for her underclothes, though she doesn’t immediately spot them. “Ferdinand von Aegir, you really are a gentleman,” she says, taking his hand in her own and pulling him close. “And I suppose that would be acceptable. We can celebrate my return to the stage together, all night.”

“I would greatly enjoy that,” he says.

“Thank you, Ferdie. For everything.”

He leans in to kiss her and she tastes herself on his lips. “Anything for you.”


End file.
